


5 ways to say 'I love you'

by BansheeLydia



Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Human, Best Friends, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 ways Allison and Lydia show they love each other </p>
<p>(and the 1 time they say the words)</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 ways to say 'I love you'

_1\. Leave the lights on._

Allison wakes up shivering.

She rolls over, slamming her alarm off, and tugs her blanket tighter around her body, trying to get warmer. Its mid winter and freezing outside, flakes of snow drifting down outside her window. Allison wants nothing more than to snuggle in bed and spend the day drinking hot coffee and watching movies. 

But she’s not in high school anymore and the only chance she’ll get a snow day off work is if the building gets snowed in, which she doesn’t think will happen anytime soon. Sighing, she slips out of bed, tugging on socks. 

It’s a Monday, which means she’s up at six in the morning for work, whereas Lydia doesn’t have to get up until half seven. 

Flicking on lights as she goes, Allison uses the bathroom and has a quick mug of coffee before getting dressed. She leaves the hallway and bathroom lights on for Lydia – her best friend has a habit of just stumbling in the dark first thing to get to the bathroom – and swipes her keys off the counter, heading out.

 

 

_2\. Make them their favorite dinner after a tough day._

She works at a small advertisement company in the junior creative team. 

Allison shares her desk with another girl and the height of her career has been a 30 second script she created for a cat food advert. With a degree and a masters in English under her belt, she’d never thought she’d end up working in the advertisement industry, but she loves her job; she gets to be creative, unlimited the way she was in her original career goals. 

There are good days and bad days and this...this is definitely a bad day.

By lunchtime, she has a stress headache, and her afternoon drags on. She leaves at quarter to six, hugging her coat tighter around herself as she steps out of the building and into the cold, boots clicking against the sidewalk as she hurries towards the subway station. It’s snowing still, but its little flakes; not enough to settle. She feels them stick in her hair and comforts herself with thoughts of home and warmth and hot cocoa as the train rattles onto the platform.

Lydia’s home when Allison steps inside the apartment; all the lights are on, the heating is turned right up, and music is playing in the kitchen. 

Her headache flares at the noise, but she keeps quiet as she hangs up her coat and tugs off her boots. The coldness of the tiles seeps through the material of her tights as she steps into the kitchen. 

Lydia’s at the stove, back to her; she’s dressed in the pink flannel pajamas Allison got her last Christmas and the ridiculous fox socks she refuses to get rid of despite being darned once too many times, her hair in a braid and hips wriggling to the beat as she sings along badly, and the stress shakes itself loose from Allison, something warm and comforting that feels like _home_ settling in her chest.

“Hi.”

Lydia jumps slightly, glancing over her shoulder. She studies Allison for a moment before switching off her iPod; there’s a ringing in Allison’s ears at the sudden silence, but she instantly feels relief from her headache. 

“How was work?” Lydia asks, pouring a glass of water and grabbing a blister packet of Tylenol from the drawer they use to store...pretty much anything, from random wires to the glasses Lydia never wears. She sets them on the table.

“Thanks. Work was...work.” Allison replies with a wrinkle of her nose and Lydia smiles. 

The kitchen smells amazing; like garlic and tomato and fried onion. She breathes in the comforting smell and gulps down a couple of Tylenol with the water. 

Lydia nods. “Go get changed, dinner will be ready soon.”

Allison gives a little salute and heads into her bedroom, swapping work clothes for her soft, worn pug pajamas and fluffy socks. She drags an old NYU sweater on, piling her hair up, and curls up on the couch with a blanket. There’s a cup of coffee waiting for her and she takes a quick sip, letting the familiar bitterness warm her up.

“How was your day?” she calls.

There’s the rattle of dishes, then, “A bus splashed cold sludge all over me on my way to class. You can imagine how the rest of my day went.”

Allison feels her lips twitch slightly. “Nice.”

Lydia carries two plates through, setting them on the table. “It must be a rough day if you’re wearing the ugly pajamas,” she teases.

Allison wraps her arms defensively around herself. She loves her pugs. “Rude.”

The redhead winks and hands her cutlery. She’s made spaghetti bolognese – Allison’s favorite dish and go-to comfort food. 

Smiling, she twirls pasta around her fork and bumps her shoulder against her best friend’s. “Thanks,” she says softly.

Lydia’s smile softens as she knocks her back affectionately. “No problem.”

 

 

_3\. Do the chores you know they hate._

Lydia has about a hundred different dresses. She likes to mix and match and Allison’s pretty sure she’s never seen her best friend wear the same outfit twice. 

She also has a ridiculously neat room, unlike Allison’s. It’s tastefully decorated, a mix of classy and girly, and everything is in just the perfect place. Allison grabs the laundry hamper, grunting slightly at the weight of it. It’s only been three days since she last did laundry; how is it so _full_?

Lydia doesn’t look up; she’s sat at her desk, beautiful face focused as she works. Her earbuds are in and Allison can hear the tinny sound of the music as she empties the contents of Lydia’s hamper into a basket with her own washing. She slips quietly from the room, swiping her pouch of quarters and key card off the counter before taking the elevator down to the laundry room. 

Allison doesn’t mind laundry. Out of all the chores she now (reluctantly) has to do to be a fully functioning and (reluctantly) responsible adult, it’s one she’ll actually willingly do rather than put it off to the last minute. She plugs in her earbuds and plays music while she sorts between whites and colors; takes a seat by the door while she waits for one load to finish so she can start the next.

She breathes in the comforting smell of freshly laundered clothes as she carries the basket back upstairs. Lydia’s gone out, but she’s left a little thank you note on the fridge, and Allison smiles, putting the basket down. She knows she should do the ironing, but it’s the one part of laundry she _doesn’t_ like. 

“We need milk,” she decides, grabbing her keys. 

Maybe she’s an adult, but she doesn’t have to be _totally_ responsible just yet.

(That evening when she goes to bed, she pauses as she closes the door to her room; her clothes are in a pile on her dresser, ironed perfectly. She can’t help but smile.)

 

 

_4\. Getting up early to turn the heating up._

Allison groans when her alarm goes off. She curls up in a tight ball, glaring balefully at her clock. It’s 6am, it’s _cold_ outside, and it’s her last day of work before she gets a Christmas break. There’s a party after work; she’ll need to go out on her lunch break to belatedly get a gift for her Secret Santa recipient. 

She just wants to snuggle under her comforter and pretend today doesn’t exist. 

The snooze alarm goes off ten minutes later and she sighs, finally shutting it off and getting out of bed. She braces for the cold air to hit her.

“Oh.”

It’s toasty warm in the apartment, a welcome surprise, and she smiles, opening her curtains to see snow dancing down to the streets below. She grabs a towel and heads towards the bathroom for a shower, stopping to check the thermostat on the way.

It doesn’t automatically raise the temperature until later in the morning; the heating has been manually turned up. Lydia.

Her roommate’s door is partially open and she glances in; Lydia’s fast asleep, snuggled in her bed, but she sees her robe and slippers on the floor. She’d gotten up early just to turn the heating up for Allison.

She feels a kind of swell in her heart, this warm, happy feeling, and she smiles as she steps into the bathroom, now more than ready to start her day.

 

 

_5\. Pick them up (even when it’s inconvenient)._

She’s woken by the sound of her phone ringing.

Allison opens her eyes just enough to squint at the clock. It’s almost midnight on Christmas Eve; she’d only got back three hours ago after an eleven hour drive home from visiting family. She’s exhausted, she needs sleep, but she looks at her phone anyway.

Lydia’s smiling face flashes on the screen.

She slides across to answer, pressing the phone to her ear as she mashes her face into her pillow. “Hey, Lyds.”

“Allison!” Lydia sounds happy. And drunk. “Are you back yet?”

“Mm hm. Sleeping.”

“Oh.”

“Where are you?” Allison asks, yawning.

“At a party. I’m really drunk right now. I might crash here.” The line goes muffled for a second and Allison hears Lydia giggling at something. She can’t help but smile; Lydia’s a happy kind of drunk, sweet and affectionate. 

“On Christmas Eve?” she says.

“Uh huh.”

Allison sits up, swinging her legs out of bed. “I’ll come get you.”

“You’re my favorite. You’re the best, have I ever told you that?”

“Regularly.”

“Good. Because you’re really great.”

“Where are you?” Allison grabs her coat and boots, not bothering to change out of her pajamas; she’s just picking Lydia up. 

Lydia pauses, then asks someone in the background. A moment later, she rattles of an address and Allison tells her to stay safe, hanging up. She pulls on her boots and coat, grabs her keys, and heads out into the snow.

At this time on Christmas Eve, the roads are pretty much dead, but she drives extra slow to compensate for the flakes of snow drifting down. The roads have been salted, but the tyres still slide slightly when she turns a corner. The address is only fifteen minutes away and there are several other cars parked outside the house, picking people up. 

She sends Lydia a text to let her know she’s outside and a few minutes later, her best friend shuffles out of the house, carefully treading across the snowy sidewalk in her heels, and Allison can’t help but grin. She looks ridiculous. Finally, Lydia slides into the passenger seat and sighs at the warmth.

“Hey, you.”

Lydia turns her head, hazel eyes bright. “Hi. I missed you.”

Allison smiles. “I missed you too.”

Halfway back, Lydia falls asleep in the passenger seat. Allison gently wakes her, helps her up to the apartment and into her room, taking off her shoes and jacket. Lydia falls against the pillows with a little mumble and Allison tugs the comforter over her, tucking her in. She stands to go, but Lydia’s hand catches her wrist.

“My favorite,” she mumbles.

A fuzzy, happy kind of feeling warms Allison. She gives Lydia’s hand a little squeeze. 

“You’re my favorite, too.”

Lydia gives a smug sort of nod and closes her eyes; a second later, there’s a soft, drunken snore. Allison smiles, makes sure she’s settled on her side, and turns out the light, retreating to her own bed.

 

 

_(+1. Say the words.)_

“We’re never hosting a New Years party again.” Allison picks up an empty bottle, tossing it in a trash bag; it rattles as it hits all the other cans and bottles in there. 

Lydia smiles, looking up from where she’s scrubbing at a stain on the carpet. “You say that every year.”

“I mean it this time. I can’t believe Jason vomited in the bathtub.”

Lydia wrinkles her nose. “Ugh.”

“Dibs on not cleaning _that_ up.”

Lydia scrunches her face up even more. “ _Ugh_.”

They clean in silence for a while. Eventually, the apartment starts to look habitable again and she grabs the trash bags, dragging them towards the door. She’s just got it open when Lydia’s quiet voice makes her pause. She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” Lydia says softly.

Allison smiles slightly. “I know,” she replies, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> kirasmalydia.tumblr.com - come say hello? :)


End file.
